


Things Unseen

by poppunkpadfoot (StormVandal)



Series: things left unsaid [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sirius Black Has PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 08:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17763194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormVandal/pseuds/poppunkpadfoot
Summary: The first time Minerva McGonagall had an inkling that things were not quite alright with Sirius Black was the first day that she met him - the day of his Sorting.





	Things Unseen

**Author's Note:**

> See the tags for content warnings.
> 
> A big big thank you to Emma (facingthenorthwind) who helped me immensely with this story!

The first time Minerva McGonagall had an inkling that things were not quite alright with Sirius Black was the first day that she met him - the day of his Sorting.

 

It wasn’t terribly uncommon, really, for first years to be dissatisfied with the results of the ceremony, at least initially. A quick flash of disappointment, of anger - even tears, though rarely - was not enough to make Minerva take pause. But the unbridled horror that spilled across Sirius Black’s face when the Sorting Hat called out “Gryffindor!” was enough to catch her attention. That wasn’t your run of the mill reaction, even from a boy who’d just broken a decades-long family Sorting tradition.

 

The look was gone almost as quickly as it appeared; Sirius Black strolled over to the Gryffindor table to a chorus of crickets, and Minerva McGonagall resolved to keep an eye on him.

 

**

 

Sirius Black did turn out to be one to watch, although not for the reasons Minerva had initially feared. No Howlers arrived with the morning mail that week, and the four first-year Gryffindor boys made fast friends, and then the pranks started and Professor McGonagall found herself with her hands quite full.

 

It all started off relatively minor - they were craftier than average first years, true, but they still didn’t get far outside the boundaries of dung bombs and Bulbadox powder. However, slowly but surely, it began to escalate. It was just before Christmas break in their third year that McGonagall finally felt the need to write home to their parents, after a particularly messy incident involving belching toilets and a realization that detention was doing nothing to quell their enthusiasm. If Sirius Black looked particularly perturbed when she told the boys she’d be writing, she chalked it up to Pureblood expectations. It was not unlikely, she thought, that Sirius would get an extra talking to about his image and upholding the family name - a lecture she felt quite sure he would ignore, and which she therefore felt no real inclination to spare him from.

 

A few days after the students had returned from their holiday, James Potter knocked timidly on her office door.

 

This set off alarm bells, largely because James Potter was rarely timid about anything. Her first thought was that perhaps his friends were planning a prank that was too over-the-top even for him and that he was there to rat them out - however, she immediately dismissed this possibility as being far too unlikely. That left her quite clueless.

 

She invited him into her office.

 

“Have a seat, Mr. Potter,” she said as she settled herself back into her own chair. “Tell me what this is about.”

 

James, she noticed, was fidgeting quite a lot. His eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at her, as his right leg bounced up and down. For a long moment, he just chewed on his lip rather than answering her; however, just as she was about to prompt him, he finally spoke.

 

“I was just wondering,” he said, “if maybe you could give Sirius extra detentions instead of sending a letter home, next time.”

 

Minerva’s eyebrows shot up, and she pressed her lips together. “As I’m sure you can imagine, Potter, my intention when sending the letters was to  _ prevent _ a ‘next time’.”

 

“Right,” said James dismissively, his tone clearly communicating that he knew that she knew that that had always been out of the question. “But just -  _ if _ , I mean, hypothetically,  _ if _ there were  a next time - I mean, I know we broke the rules and you have to punish us and stuff, but I was just… I just wanted to know if you  _ had _ to send an owl to his parents.”

 

Minerva surveyed him. Perhaps this was his sneaky way of trying to get all four of them out of trouble with their parents? But then why mention Sirius specifically? It was all very odd.

 

“Why?” she asked after a long moment.

 

If James had appeared nervous before, he now seemed like he might burst. He sat there fidgeting in silence for a while before, finally, he took a deep breath.

 

“He has this massive bruise,” he said, sweeping one hand up and down his left side to illustrate. “All up his side, like this. It’s really bad, Professor, it’s all purple and green and stuff -”

 

“Did he say how he got it?” Minerva interrupted, her heart sinking horribly. In her mind, she pictured the look on Sirius’s face when he was Sorted - if she had been missing the signs this entire time…

 

“He says he fell down the stairs,” said James, and began to worry his bottom lip between his teeth.

 

The boy was such an open book, honestly, it was a wonder that he ever got away with anything at all.

 

“But you don’t believe him.” It was a statement more than a question; the answer was written all over his face.

 

Slowly, James shook his head.

 

“I see.” A small mercy: her voice didn’t betray how shaken she felt. “You’ve done well to tell me this, James.”

 

James blinked in apparent surprise, whether at her reassurance or at her use of his first name she wasn’t sure. “So you won’t write to his parents anymore?” he asked hopefully.

 

She couldn’t bear to tell him that she wasn’t sure she got to make that decision; she couldn’t bear the fact that she might not have a choice. She resolved to go talk to Albus as soon as James had left.

 

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, hoping she at least sounded reassuring.

 

The look of pure relief on his face was another blow to her chest. “Thank you, Professor,” he said, getting out of his chair. “I, er, I should go, the others will be wondering where I’ve gotten off to - er, I’ll see you tomorrow in class?”

 

Minerva nodded in acknowledgement, and James gave her  a grin in return. It seemed as though a weight had been lifted off him. He waved over his shoulder as he left her office, probably off to plan more mischief that she’d inevitably have to deal with. Right then, though, she had much bigger issues to tackle.

 

**

 

To call Albus’s response to her questions about Sirius anything less than “frustrating” would be generous. He told her simply to use her best judgement when it came to writing to the Blacks - which was something, at least - but offered little help when it came to what could be done for Sirius.

 

(“The boy says he fell, Minerva.”

 

“And if he didn’t?”

 

“We cannot solve a problem that he will not admit exists.”

 

“And if he does admit it?”

 

Albus had just looked at her over his spectacles for a moment, before breaking her gaze and busying himself with one of the rolls of parchment lying on his desk. “Then we’ll see,” he said, and Minerva understood herself to be dismissed.)

 

Regardless of her frustration, though, Minerva had permission to avoid writing to the Blacks, and she couldn’t help but feel relieved. She would give Sirius Black extra detentions; she would call him into her office and scold him to no end; his actions would have consequences, but she would not write to his parents, not again, not ever, unless she had absolutely no choice.

 

Perhaps he had just fallen, but Minerva was not willing to take the chance.

 

**

 

For a while - quite a long while, a few years, even - Minerva thought perhaps she had managed to mitigate the problem. James did not show up at her office door with concerns through all of his fourth and fifth years; Sirius seemed perfectly happy, as mischievous and boisterous as ever. Sometimes she wondered whether she had completely overreacted, whether her instincts had been wrong - but then she would remember that look on Sirius’s face at his sorting, and she stuck to her guns.

 

In the Marauders’ (as they had nicknamed themselves) sixth year, things changed. 

 

She noticed within a week of the term starting that something wasn’t quite right. The way Sirius was acting was just so… put on. He was not a good enough actor to make her believe that his heart was in his jokes and pranks or even in his usual attitude. No matter how much he smirked or how many charming comments he made, she couldn’t help but notice the bags under his eyes, or the lost expression that would cloud his face whenever he wasn’t distracting himself.

 

At first she assumed that it was related to the…  _ incident _ at the end of the last school year; but the longer it went on, the more she doubted that theory, especially since the boy’s friendships seemed to have recovered almost astonishingly quickly.

 

She also couldn’t help but notice the worried way that James kept looking at him.

 

She called Sirius into her office in mid-October, offered him a biscuit, and asked him kindly whether everything was alright. He did not meet her eyes. He did not take a biscuit. He kept his gaze firmly locked on a spot on her desk, and mumbled, “Everything is fine, Professor, thanks,” and she was not reassured at all.

 

She kept an eye on him. She was not sure what else she could do.

 

A few weeks later, she heard through the grapevine that James had received a detention from Professor Kulkarni for hexing Sirius in class - a Hysteria Hex, she’d been informed, a strong one, Remus Lupin had had to take him to the hospital wing - and she found herself quite puzzled. It just didn’t make sense. The four of them did play pranks on each other every so often, but it seemed very out of character for James to embarrass his best friend like that.

 

She sat in her office puzzling it over for a little while, but got nowhere. Eventually she decided that the best course of action would be to talk to James and have him explain his behaviour himself.

 

When she opened her office door, it was to find James Potter himself pacing in the corridor outside.

 

He didn’t seem to notice her until she said his name, at which point he jumped about a foot in the air and whipped around to stare at her. His hair, unless she was imagining things, was looking far messier than usual - as though he had been repeatedly running his hands through it - and he had a very odd expression on his face. Minerva couldn’t quite place it; she certainly had never seen him like that before. She might call it desperation.

 

She invited him into her office.

 

“I was just on my way to find you, Potter,” she said crisply, as he sat down heavily in one of her chairs and rubbed his hands over his face. She settled into her own chair and surveyed him over the desk. “Professor Kulkarni told me that you sent Mr. Black to the hospital wing today with a Hysteria Hex.”

 

Before she even had a chance to add “Why?” or “That seems unlike you, Potter,” James said quietly, “I didn’t.”

 

She raised her eyebrows at him. “That isn’t what you told Professor Kulkarni.”

 

“I lied. I didn’t cast anything on him.”

 

“Then who do you suppose did cast it?” Minerva made sure to insert a healthy note of disbelief into her voice. “I suppose you’re going to tell me it was Severus Snape, or some other Slytherin?”

 

James huffed out a sigh and tugged his fingers through his hair, somehow making it stand even more on end. “No, he didn’t. No one cast anything on anyone. Sirius just… I… I wanted to spare him some embarrassment, I suppose, so. I lied.”

 

Minerva stared at him.

 

She had seen him lie enough times to know that he was not lying now. But if it had been hard to believe that James Potter would cast a Hysteria Hex on his best friend in the middle of class, it was much harder to believe this alternative - that Sirius Black had simply… dissolved into tears for no apparent reason, in the middle what had been by all accounts perfectly accounts perfectly average Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Minerva could scarcely wrap her head around the idea.

 

The longer she sat there staring at James silently, the more he seemed as though he was about to vibrate out of his skin. He ran his hands through his hair again, twice, his knee jiggling up and down, and she was about to express concern when, quite suddenly, he stilled.

 

“You have to help him, Professor,” he burst out. “I don’t - I don’t know what to do.”

 

“What, exactly, do you believe is wrong?” Minerva asked, as evenly as possible. When he opened his mouth, his posture clearly communicating that he was ready to fight her (probably over her use of the word ‘believe’), she held up her hand and said, “It’s obvious to me that you’re right. Something is wrong. I am simply asking you for details.”

 

At this, James relaxed - or, rather, deflated. “I - I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone what happened.”

 

“How do you expect me to help him if I don’t know what I’m helping him with, Mr. Potter?”

 

He hesitated. It was obvious that he saw her point, but she wasn’t surprised that that wasn’t enough to make him tell her what was going on.

 

“Is he in danger?” she prompted. “Is there a situation he needs to be removed from?”

 

“Not anymore,” James mumbled. “He lives with us now.”

 

“Us?”

 

“Me and my family, I mean.”

 

Ah. So her - and James’s - suspicions about the Black family home had been confirmed, by the sounds of it. She thought, though, that she had better check before she jumped to conclusions.

 

“Did something happen with his parents?”

 

At the word ‘parents’, James let out a derisive little snort, anger sparking in his eyes. “Yeah,” he said shortly. “Something happened with his parents.”

 

“Would you care to elaborate?” Minerva prompted after a long pause.

 

“I told you, I promised him I wouldn’t,” he replied. “But - it - it was bad, Professor. Really bad.”

 

Minerva rather hated to imagine the possibilities; she tried to push the thoughts out of her head and focus on what needed to be done. “I can redirect all school-related owls to your parents,” she said crisply. “However, I rather think that isn’t the sort of help you were envisioning.”

 

The more she spoke, the more relieved James began to look. However, he was still worrying his bottom lip between his teeth in what she had long since recognized as a persistent nervous habit of his.

 

“He hasn’t been sleeping,” he said softly. “And he’s been having nightmares when he does. And… sometimes, he just… I don’t know… panics?”

 

“What do you mean, he panics?”

 

“I mean… he’ll start shaking, or… or even crying sometimes, like today, and Sirius  _ hates _ crying. Or sometimes he just zones out. Like this.”

 

He demonstrated, giving her a blank, glazed-over look, seeming to stare into the middle distance even as he made eye contact with her. “It can be kinda hard to snap him out of,” he said, dropping the expression.

 

Minerva sighed softly and sat back in her chair. From what James was describing, whatever was going on with Sirius sounded quite… well, serious. She didn’t want to admit it to James, of course, but she wasn’t completely sure what to do.

 

“Have you taken him to see Madam Pomfrey?” she asked eventually.

 

James frowned a little. “No. Should I? I mean… do you think… can she help?”

 

“She should at least be able to give him sleeping potions - those can help him fall asleep and prevent nightmares. The panicking, though… is perhaps more difficult to solve. Madam Pomfrey could give him Calming Draughts to use as needed, but that’s hardly preventative care. Although… I know you’ve promised not to divulge the specifics, but does he talk about what causes the panic? What he’s panicking about?”

 

“No, not really,” replied James with a shrug. “I mean… I know what happened, so it’s pretty obvious when it’s that, but sometimes it seems to be just… random.”

 

Minerva had so many more questions, but she felt quite sure that James would not be forthcoming with answers. He was quite a stubborn boy, and not one to break promises, especially promises to Sirius.

 

“Well, Mr. Potter, Madam Pomfrey seems to be the best place to start,” she said kindly. “I’ll speak to her first so there won’t be any issues. And if you think of anything else you can tell me about what’s going on, or anything else I can do to help, my door is always open. Alright?”

 

“Alright,” James said, snagging a biscuit out of the tin on her desk as he stood up. “Thanks a lot, Professor, really, it - this means a lot.”

 

She inclined her head at him in acknowledgement, and he left her office in short order. She wrote a quick note to Poppy Pomfrey, authorizing her to distribute potions as needed to Sirius, and then she pulled out a stack of second-year Transfiguration essays that needed marking. Never before had she been so grateful for a stack of marking. Perhaps it would prevent her from dwelling on all the worst things that could have happened to Sirius Black.

 

***

 

By the end of his sixth year, Sirius Black seemed to be doing much better. He was still using sleeping potions and Calming Draughts, according to Poppy, but not as often, and there were no further public “Hysteria Hex” incidents. As far as Minerva was aware, he spent the summer holiday - as well as the Christmas and Easter breaks - with the Potters.

 

His seventh year went better still - when he returned in September, he seemed much more like his old self, albeit a somewhat quieter and more mature version. He and his friends passed their NEWTs with flying colours (with the exception of Peter Pettigrew, who passed with middle-of-the-road results). And with that, they were finished at Hogwarts, thrust into the real world, where war was raging and Voldemort was growing stronger by the day.

 

All four of them joined the Order immediately.

 

Minerva had long since expressed to Albus her hesitations about letting students join straight out of Hogwarts, but Albus had brushed her off, pointing out that, legally, all members of the Order were adults. In Minerva’s eyes, that argument held little water - they were all still so  _ young _ \- but she knew that arguing about it any further would be futile.

 

So the Marauders, like others before them joined the Order of the Phoenix right out of Hogwarts, and Minerva disapproved silently. They, along with several other members of their graduating class, attended their first meeting mere weeks after the end of term.

 

They were remarkably well-behaved throughout; they didn’t crack any jokes or pass any notes, just listened to Albus solemnly. In fact, none of them even said a word until near the end of the meeting, when Mad-Eye Moody began handing out assignments.

 

“MacDonald and Evans, you’ll be tailing Evan Rosier,” he growled, passing them a scroll. “I assume the two of you are familiar, he just graduated Hogwarts last year. Black and Lupin, you’ll be on Amycus Carrow. He’s a nasty bugger. In ordinary circumstances, I’d give him to someone more experienced, but we’re stretched thin at the moment and I hear you two scored top marks in Defence.”

 

“I urge you both to exhibit extreme caution when dealing with Carrow,” said Albus from the end of the table, fixing Sirius and Remus with his piercing gaze. “He has a certain fondness for the Cruciatus Curse, and will not hesitate to use it if he catches you. Unnecessary risks are to be avoided.”

 

Even though she was not looking out for it, Minerva couldn’t help but notice the way that Remus, James and Peter’s eyes all flicked towards Sirius, or the mild look of panic that had come over James’s face. Sirius, for his part, looked almost calm - except that his fingers had tightened on his armrest enough that his knuckles had gone white.

 

“Potter and Pettigrew-” Moody began, but before he could finish speaking, he was interrupted.

 

“We can take Carrow,” James Potter said abruptly. “Me and Pete, I mean.”

 

Both Albus and Mad-Eye stared at him; so did Minerva. He didn’t waver though, just leant forward across the table and looked at Moody challengingly.

 

“Your defence marks were good as well, Potter,” Moody said slowly. “But Pettigrew’s, not so much. No offence, Pettigrew.”

 

“None taken,” said Peter, although his face had flushed red.

 

“Me and Remus then,” James persisted. He met Remus’s eye for a moment, and Remus nodded at him almost imperceptibly.

 

Moody scratched his chin. “It’s pretty unusual, but - whatever, unless Black objects -”

 

“I’m easy,” Sirius said, but Minerva noted that he had relaxed significantly.

 

“Then Potter and Lupin will take Carrow. You and Pettigrew can take Wilkes. He’s an easier mark than Carrow, but don’t let that lower your guard. None of you want to be seen by any of these scumbags. A Death Eater’s a Death Eater.”

 

“Understood,” said Sirius.

 

Mad-Eye and Albus exchanged a significant look before Mad-Eye resumed the handing out of assignments. Minerva was quite sure that she knew what they were both thinking - that that had been suspicious, that maybe there was some reason that Sirius specifically shouldn’t be around Carrow. However, she was equally sure that they were wrong.

 

She knew what had happened to Sirius Black when he was sixteen.

 

The meeting broke up after Moody had handed out the rest of the assignments, and Minerva caught Sirius just outside. He was leaning against the side of the building, smoking a Muggle cigarette - how he’d gotten his hands on some of those, Minerva wasn’t sure.

 

“A word, Black?” she asked.

 

Sirius looked startled; he almost dropped his cigarette, but he quickly recovered and gave her a little smile. “Sure, Professor, what’s up?”

 

Now that she was standing in front of him, Minerva was not quite sure what to say. She considered for a brief moment - Sirius seeming more and more wary with every second that passed - before deciding.

 

“About a year and a half ago, Mr Potter showed up at my office door.” Sirius did not immediately react, still the same level of wary, so she continued. “He was worried about you. He said terrible things had happened to you at your parents’ house but refused to tell me what those things  _ were _ , which obviously hindered my ability to offer relevant advice or assistance significantly.” 

 

Sirius, now, had gone white, and he actually did drop his cigarette this time. 

 

“Bloody wanker,” he muttered without feeling, as he half-heartedly crushed the smouldering stick under his boot. “Promised he wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone.”

 

“As I said, he kept his promise,” Minerva replied firmly. “He refused to give me any details. But it was thanks to him that you were able to access those potions from Madam Pomfrey, and that all school-related mail was diverted to his parents’ house.”

 

“I figured that was his doing, somehow,” Sirius admitted after a beat. “But I never asked him about it. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that, yeah? But why are you telling me this now?”

 

“Because I saw what just happened when Moody assigned you to Carrow.”

 

“Yeah, James is a bit overprotective, I could’ve handled Carrow just fine. I don’t see what that has to do with-“

 

“Sirius, did one of your parents use the Cruciatus Curse on you?”

 

There was a long silence. Sirius’s poker face was quite good, but his face had somehow gone even paler, and the fact that he hadn’t replied made it obvious that she’d hit the mark, or something close enough to unsettle him. 

 

“I wish you’d said something,” she said when he made no move to answer her.

 

“What good would that have done?” he replied scornfully.

 

Minerva wanted to point out the obvious - that they had broken the law, that the Cruciatus Curse was an automatic life sentence - but she reconsidered at the last moment. It wasn’t helpful and Sirius certainly wouldn’t be receptive. “So I could help you however I could,” she said instead. “This may surprise you, but I do care about your wellbeing.”

 

For the first time that evening, Sirius smiled - although it was very strained. “Nah, I always knew you loved me.”

 

She didn’t respond, just raised one eyebrow. He was trying to play this whole conversation off - a habit of his that she was not unfamiliar with. She was not going to push him, though; if he didn’t want to talk about it, she would not force him.

 

Just as she was about to wish him well and bid him a good night, Sirius spoke again.

 

“It was my mum,” he said, frowning down at the ground. “A few times, the night she kicked me out. Could’ve been worse, really - I thought she was going to kill me, but here I am, so.”

 

Even though, on some level, she had already known, hearing him say it out loud, and in such a casual way, was still like a physical blow to her chest, an ache behind her breastbone. For a moment, all she could do was stare at him. The Cruciatus Curse was widely considered to be one of the most - if not  _ the _ most - painful things anyone could experience; that he would downplay it like that stunned her, regardless of his habits. She almost wanted to give him a hug, but she held herself back; it would surely be improper.

 

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she said instead.

 

He just shrugged. “It’s fine,” he said. (It  _ was not _ fine, but Minerva had already decided that pushing him on anything right now would not be a good idea.) “But, er. Listen, Professor, I… I really appreciated the help that year.  I mean, your help, I guess. I don’t know what I would’ve done without it. So… thank you.”

 

“You’re quite welcome, Mr. Black,” said Minerva past the lump in her throat. “I… I suppose I’ll be seeing you quite soon.”

 

“Two weeks from now, to be exact,” he said, pulling out a fresh cigarette. “For now, I’d better be off, Remus’ll be wondering where I’ve gotten off to.” He gave her another smile, this one somewhat less strained. “Goodnight, Professor.”

 

“Goodnight,” she replied, and watched him walk away.

 

As she turned to leave herself, she made herself a promise. She may not have been able to protect Sirius to the fullest extent while he was at Hogwarts, but she would protect him now.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written McGonagall before, so I really hope I've done her justice <3 lmk if you have any feedback!


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